


Famous Prophets

by Moiderah



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Adulthood, F/F, Introspection, Mental Health Issues, Post-Break Up, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Hatred, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 15:24:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19976308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moiderah/pseuds/Moiderah
Summary: Eight years after beating Walpurgisnacht, Homura's relationship with Madoka fell apart.





	1. MINDS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Homura deals with a breakup.
> 
> Poorly.

It had been two days since Madoka broke up with her after eight years of dating. And Homura still stared at her door.

The apartment was eerily quiet and she hated it. She hated it so goddamn much. She didn't even leave. She just waited. Madoka was going to be back any second now. She'd done this before. She'd left before. It was going to be fine. They'd had fights. They'd had bad fights. This was going to be fine.

It'd be a few more days before Madoka came back. Homura knew it.

She sat on a bare wooden floor with dust collecting on her things. Her couch was black and plain. She was still naked; she hadn't gotten dressed since Madoka left. She'd done this before. She didn't need to get dressed. She didn't need food. She was fine.

Her stomach growled. She ignored it. She had ignored it before.

The floor was littered with trash. There were pieces of wrappers everywhere. Homura didn't know how they got there; she hadn't eaten. Maybe she tried to eat and gave up. She didn't remember. She didn't care. Who cared. It was fine. She was fine. It'd be fine.

Madoka just needed to come back.

Madoka just needed to see the damage she'd done to her.

Madoka just needed to see what Homura was like. How pathetic she was like this.

Madoka just needed to come back.

She'd come back.

She'd be back.

[=]

It had been a week since Madoka broke up with her. Homura was starving.

On the fifth day she relented and took a shower. Madoka hadn't ever left this long. Where could she be? She was obviously still in Mitakihara; she wouldn't just up and leave forever. She was mad. She was upset with Homura.

Of course she was. Homura was nothing without Madoka. Homura knew she was nothing without her.

Her hand twitched. She was still naked on the floor. Her soul gem was purple but it had a fleck of black floating around the bottom.

"Madoka," she muttered. It was the first word she'd said in a week. The last time she'd spoken was right before Madoka turned heel and left.

She didn't remember what the argument was about. She didn't think it was anything big. Madoka should be back. She'd be back. She wouldn't leave over...whatever it was. Would she?

Would she?

She wouldn't.

[=]

She did.

It had been two weeks. And Homura was forced to pay rent. It was no trouble; she had enough money saved to pay for rent for five more years. But even Homura was getting bored of standing around. Madoka wasn't one to stay away this long.

She checked her phone to see if she had replied to any of her texts.

Madoka hadn't.

Maybe that would change with another fifteen texts.

[=]

It had been fifteen days. Madoka blocked her.

Homura probably should have seen this coming. She was such a stupid bitch she should have seen that fucking coming.

Her hand hovered over her left arm. Part of her wanted to claw through the flesh and rip her arm off and tear and tear and tear and tear until there was nothing less

And another just...

Her hand flickered and her shield emerged on her arm.

[=]

It had been twenty days. Homura took a shower again. She still didn't get dressed. The apartment was getting filthy.

She threw another grief seed against the ground. She couldn't give up now. Madoka was going to come back. She had to. If she didn't she'd go back. She could go back.

She could get a perfect Madoka.

She could get the right Madoka.

This wasn't the right Madoka. This Madoka was imperfect.

She was a flawed human being. Her Madoka wasn't imperfect.

She missed her.

She missed the way she hugged her. The way she kissed her. The way she fucked her.

She missed Madoka. She missed her.

She couldn't stop herself from vomiting on the floor.

Homura cleaned it up. She couldn't leave that for Madoka when she finally returned.

[=]

It had been thirty-six days since Madoka broke up with her. She finally left the apartment. She couldn't stay in there. She could feel her soul blackening with every second she spent alone. Madoka still needed her. She couldn't leave this yet.

She had known this imperfect Madoka longer than she had any other. She knew her wants, her needs, her loves, her...

Her hangups. Her belief that she could do things on her own. The fact that she was taking after Junko in probably the worst possible way.

She sipped her coffee. She was dressed how she tended to before the breakup; half-rimmed glasses, black hair straight in a bob, leggings under a purple skirt, a striped shirt and a simple, tasteful scarf around her neck.

She almost looked like she had her shit together.

Really, it was just her abusing her magic and making sure nobody could see that she was badly starving herself. No need for anyone to question her.

She sipped her coffee again. She preferred her drink black. Bitter, hot. She sipped it some more.

For a second she thought that maybe Madoka breaking things off was for the best.

Her hand involuntarily crushed the paper cup in her hand and spilled steaming hot coffee all over her t-shirt and her glasses and her shoes.

She swore under her breath. She transformed twice in the middle of the cafe; nobody was going to care in a few minutes and it would inconvenience the incubators. Then she left.

She needed to find out where Madoka was.

But as she looked, she realized to her horror that Madoka wasn't anywhere. Madoka needed protection but Homura couldn't find her at her usual haunts. She couldn't find Madoka at her old workplace, at the school she would pass by, at Tatsuya's school, _anywhere._

The mall was devoid of her pink hair. No charm, no joy. Nothing there. Nary a sign of Madoka Kaname. Her eyes flicked around, looking for her. Madoka needed Homura. Why didn't she know that.

She had needed her for eight years. Right?

Madoka needed her. There's no way she could survive out there in this cruel city without her.

[=]

It was now 41 days since Madoka broke up with her. Homura found Madoka.

She was walking home from work and she looked...

Happy.

Madoka was fine. Madoka was worse than fine; she was walking with a confidence that Homura had never seen. That Madoka kept her pace up as she talked to her high school friend; Hiromi? Haruko? She didn't remember her name. She didn't care to.

But Madoka was still spending more time with her. Homura was above them, atop a building beside a series of wires. She wanted Madoka to look up. She wanted Madoka, that _selfish, selfish bitch,_ to look up and see how much she hurt. To see how much it felt like Homura's heart was gonna tear itself out of her chest, how it was going to smash her ribcage and tear her organs and rip her to shreds.

Homura's face felt wet. It must've started raining. Madoka wasn't running inside, though.

Then Homura realized that her nose was running.

Then she collapsed to her knees.

Homura didn't move from that spot for an hour. And as she buried her face in her hands and curled into a ball, she failed to notice a magi approaching from behind with the light thump of feet on rooftop. Nor did she notice the sound of feet tapping.

She did notice the voice, though.

"Hey, Homu."

Homura whipped her head back to see Kyouko standing there with a cigarette in her mouth and her hair cut short; she had an undercut and by god she could not look more like a turbodyke if she tried. Her denim jacket fluttered in the wind over a rainbow tanktop as she pushed her hands into her pockets and propped her foot up.

"What do you _want,"_ Homura hissed at her. "I'm...I'm trying to protect-"

"You're not protectin' much of anything. Really it kinda looked like stalking to me."

Homura opened her mouth to retort. Then the words stopped in her throat. She bit her tongue and swore again.

"You said you were fine when we tried mind-speaking."

"I was."

"Yeah, sure, I don't fuckin' buy that." Kyouko leaned against the wall. "Not anymore. Now let's be honest, Akemi. What were you doing up here? Were you just casually checking up on your ex? Were you gonna stalk her?"

"I just wanted to check on her. For her protection. She's-"

"In a city dense with friendly magi, with the biggest grief seed on the planet, if not _the universe._ Madoka isn't hurting for protection."

"But I don't just mean from magi! I mean from...from everyone else! What if she gets shot or robbed or-!"

"Madoka's a big girl." Kyouko glanced down. "She can handle herself. But what about you?" She kept her hands in her pockets as she walked closer. "Are _you_ okay."

Homura bit her lip. "I am."

"You're not gonna turn back-"

"NO!" Homura near-screamed at her. "N-No I wouldn't...I-I couldn't! There's n-no guarantee I could beat Walpurgis again I-I don't-!" She breathed in. She was turning into the child again. Into that helpless, useless, _feckless creature_ that made a stupid wish. "No. No, I wouldn't."

"Are you sure." It's not a question.

Homura stared at Kyouko.

She left after a minute.

[=]

It had been 53 days since Madoka broke up with Homura. And she had a lot to think about. She was currently sitting across from Kyouko in the middle of some poor, decrepit hole-in-the-wall restaurant. The other woman had a delicious-looking platter of chicken and rice and steamed veggies in front of her.

Homura just had a rice bowl and some soy sauce. She supposed it was a step up from starving herself naked on an apartment floor.

Homura leaned her face on her hand. She stared out to the side.

Her eyes flickered back to Kyouko's meal. Neither of them had actually touched their food.

Kyouko leaned on her hands. "So. Are you gonna stick around? You've told me you hated this town."

"I do," Homura says. "I hate this city. I hate every building. I hate everything in it. I hate the smells. I hate how much it makes me think..." She trailed off despite herself.

It's been almost two months. She shouldn't be this much of a wreck.

"Yeah. Yeah, I getcha." Kyouko leans back. "But it'd be right for you. You can't stay here. It's not good for you, and it wasn't good for Madoka, either."

Homura almost wanted to punch Kyouko in the face for mentioning her name. But then she realized it wasn't right. Kyouko was...right. It was right.

Their relationship wasn't good for either of them, was it.

She was like a fucking parasite.

She latched onto Madoka's beauty and wondered why it looked ugly up close.

She was horrible to her.

She was horrible.

She is horrible.

She's-

Kyouko tapped her shoulder. "I ain't one to play therapist. That's Akane's job." She frowned. "But uhh...you alright?"

Homura looked outside for a good few seconds. Her hair was starting to grow out a little. Maybe a little bit longer than it used to be; it was down to the small of her back now.

"I think I'll go to Chile."

"Huh? Chile? Why there?"

"Because it's far away. Hell, maybe I can go to Easter Island if I want." Homura smiled. It was thin and tiny, barely even a smile, really, but it was more than Kyouko had seen in a while.

The other woman exposed a fang with a sly smirk. "You could really use that, couldn't you?"

"I believe I could, yes."

[=]

Homura had left Mitakihara in the following weeks. And as far as the magi of Mitakihara were concerned, she had vanished off the face of the earth.

And maybe it was better like that. Homura would argue that it was better that way.

And Madoka would, too.

But perhaps Madoka wasn't as okay with it as she thought she would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, I always thought the relationship between Madoka and Homura would be horribly toxic. But...well there's a reason this is part 1 of 2.


	2. STARS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madoka had been dealing with things on her own end, too. 
> 
> [THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES EXPLICIT CONTENT]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also if you're wondering why Madoka seems wildly different, please remember that it's been twenty years, and a major theme is how people change after two decades.
> 
> It's not a mistake.

[-FAMOUS PROPHETS-](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lwj24E44Dak)

It had been three-thousand, six-hundred and twenty-two days since she broke up with Homura. Madoka was working out that morning. Nothing too strenuous, definitely nothing on par with Sayaka or Kyouko or Akane or Tomo's insane workouts, but then again, she was only human.

Minako had just turned fourteen and Madoka had already sent her regards in the mail. It was probably gonna take a little while before the kid got their gift; it was a figure from one of their favorite anime, a big samurai woman with a gigantic purple sword. Madoka never saw the show, but really, it was kind of in her taste.

She stretched her hands as she got off the treadmill, whipped her towel over her shoulders and chugged her water. The Okinawan sun poured in through the skylights in her house, a gigantic empty space with very few walls. At the end was a bar. On the left was the ocean.

She was wearing a sports bra and a pair of workout shorts as she sat at her couch. It was enormous, way too big for just one person in this godforsaken house.

This empty house where she maybe brought a date home once every so often. She learned pretty quickly that while she was bi, she had a preference for women. She thought it was just incidental that most of her dates tended to be ladies.

That became less believable after the sixth girlfriend. Madoka began to wonder if she attracted toxic women to her. Or if she just met bad men. Or if she was just a piece of trash. A piece of trash that gave up the woman that liked her b-

She hissed out a "Fuck."

She didn't want to think about Homura Akemi.

And frankly that relationship needed to end. It was too much. It was bad for her, bad for Homura. So why couldn't she stop _thinking_ about her? It just popped up every so often like a bad fucking joke. She might not think about Homura for months at a time. Then when she was trying to work or was in a meeting she just...

She imagined watching over Mitakihara as they rebuilt the city. Double dates with Kyouko and Sayaka. Watching Minako being born. It wasn't surprising. She couldn't just forget eight years like that. She couldn't forget any of it.

And she especially couldn't forget the fights.

She took a deep breath. She had work to get to.

[=]

Work was uneventful, refreshingly so. Maybe an argument might've been brewing, but she defused it. She tended to just kind of check out on down days. It was mostly just small upkeep; keep the teammates operating smoothly, cool off brewing problems, and keep their projects moving forward.

What she _was_ looking forward to was going out. Maybe seeing a film. Maybe calling up one of her friends. The couch was awfully lonely.

She took a breath while she walked out of the building. Probably not the best idea to have lurid thoughts on the sidewalk in front of the workplace.

Ishigaki was nowhere near the size of Mitakihara; hell, it was nowhere near the size of _Naha._ Even with several decades of growth, the population peaked at a hundred thousand and more or less stayed there. Madoka had lived here for the past two years, and all things considered, she was starting to actually kind of enjoy it. But what she was excited for was the night life.

Something interesting always happened at night.

So it was that at the heart of Ishigaki, in the middle of a club with pumping bass and flashing neon and the umpteenth remix of Cruel Angel's Thesis blaring from the speakers, Madoka found herself with a cocktail in hand. It was a stupid, tropical-looking pina colada. The kind of drink she normally wouldn't be caught dead drinking, but hey, she liked the coconut.

She gave it a sip. And then someone bumped into her back. The drink went all over her shirt, all over her face, and right onto the floor. She hissed. "Fucking-" She took a deep breath. "Excuse me." She turned in her chair.

The woman walking by had shoulder-length black hair and a large-brim straw hat. She was dressed in mostly purple a simple, gorgeous dress with an exposed back.

But right now she just pissed Madoka off. "Ma'am? You spilled my drink."

"Oh!" The woman stopped, turned. "Apolo..."

Both of the women froze when they realized who they were looking at. single silver ring with a glimmering purple gem. Pitch-black, shimmering hair. A gaunt face and fair skin that looked as though it hadn't aged a day.

Madoka knew that woman's face. She had kissed it countless times.

It was several seconds of uninterrupted staring but it felt like a fucking century. Madoka thought she experienced an entire emotional spectrum in the span of one bass drop. Her breath caught in her throat. Immediately, she felt like she wanted to fucking leave.

She could just not acknowledge it. Just leave right now. Don't say her name. Don't-

"Homura?"

God fucking _damn it._ And with any luck, Homura would-

"M-Madoka?"

Madoka froze on the spot. She looked terrible. She had coconut-flavored booze on her shirt; it was a good thing it was a shitty shirt she didn't care about but it's just...

It's just...

Just...

"W-what are you doing here?" Madoka asked and it was like she was a teenager again.

"I uh...I should ask you the same, Kaname." Homura winced at the last word.

"I live in this city."

"Ah." Homura paused. "So you hate Mitakihara, too?"

"Yyyeah." Madoka pushed herself back up. "I...did."

"Mm." Homura kept her breathing steady. "Do...do you want to stay here?"

"Can you instaclean my shirt?"

"That's a magi-exclusive power."

"Ah. Right." Madoka took another breath. She was trying to keep from either hugging or punching or screaming something. "I...might have to go home." She pulled out her wallet, but the bartender raised a hand.

"It's on the house," she said, hands raised. "Honestly, you're having...a time."

"Thanks." Madoka's eyes flicked up to the bartender, then to Homura before she took a step off the barstool and towards the club's exit.

A part of her hoped that Homura would follow her out. The rest hoped that would be the last she'd see of Akemi.

Except as soon as she stepped out of the bar she heard footsteps behind her. "H-hey!"

Madoka froze in place. She turned. "What do you-"

Homura stretched out her hand, and in her palm was a single rectangular block made of crystal, with a displ...wait a tic. "Your uh, your phone."

Madoka froze. She patted herself down, slowly realizing that she actually did leave her phone on the bar. She lightly stretched her hand out and gave the phone a squeeze, almost deliberately trying to avoid Homura's hand.

"Uhh...thank you." Madoka bit her lip. "Thanks, Homura."

"You're welcome, Madoka."

[=]

It had been two days since she met Homura again. And Madoka was still fucking thinking about it. She stared at herself in the mirror, naked, fresh out of the shower. Her hair was sticking to her scalp, her eyes half-lidded. She kept staring at herself, at her stupid self.

"Fuck's sake, Madoka," she hissed. She breathed in through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. "Just...an ex. She's your ex. And you just brushed into each other. That's it. That's all that..." She paused.

She glanced down to her phone, which was just glowing in the light of the shower. She picked it up. It unlocked as soon as it gave her eyes a scan, and she scrolled her thumb to the "phone" tab. A tap or two and she moved to her settings.

Homura's number was still blocked. Just as it was before.

The smart thing would probably be to keep it like that.

But Madoka wasn't built on good decisions.

Her finger twitched over the unblock button. She wondered if it would be worth it to...well...meet over drinks? You know, as friends.

None of her other exes had as bad a breakup as she had with Homura. Why was Homura so special? Eight years, and they fell apart spectacularly. Madoka screamed at her for...some reason. But really, Madoka still thought it was the straw that broke the camel's back.

She pressed her thumb and unblocked Homura. Part of her expected a flood of messages.

The phone didn't budge. No new messages.

Madoka let out a sigh of relief. "She moved on, too." She smiled. Her finger hovered over the text app. Then she rolled her eyes and gave it a press.

> Madoka: hey, it's madoka  
>  Madoka: wanna go out for drinks later?

Her finger paused. That sounded a little presumptuous.

> Madoka: as friends

She kept her eyes locked on the phone as she waited for an answer. One minute. Two. The hot shower mist was starting to give way. She was actually starting to get cold.

Finally, she got a text back.

> Homura: I'd like that.  
>  Madoka: cool.  
>  Madoka: there's a bar nearby  
>  Homura: I hope it's not at a club  
>  Homura: Oh  
>  Madoka: yeah no we need someplace quiet  
>  Madoka: colelct our thoughts.  
>  Madoka: *collect  
>  Homura: I agree.  
>  Madoka: tomorrow?  
>  Homura: yes  
>  Homura: Just send me the address.

Madoka did just that. She took a deep breath. She wondered if she was going to regret this.

[=]

It had been three days since she met Homura again. And she was currently sitting with her handbag in her hands just outside of the bar. Her hands tightened around the handle, jaw set, teeth grinding against each other.

Despite herself, Madoka couldn't help the nerves. She knew what Homura was like. She knew it _too well._

But that's the thing. _Was._ She wondered if she grew. She wondered if Homura became better in some way.

Then Madoka wondered if she herself became worse. She wondered when she got this way. At what point did she lose track of herself. When did she stop being kind. When did she harden. Why was she questioning Homura. She should have been more patient. She should have-

 _No._ She stopped those thoughts in their tracks. _No, it was bad for you, and it was bad for Homura. Fucking stop it._

Madoka leaned her head back against the wall. "Fuck me."

"But we just met."

Madoka almost jumped off the wall at the voice. She whipped her head around to see Homura standing right there in a wide-brim hat, a short-sleeved shirt, and a pair of shorts with a bag slung over her shoulder.

"O-Oh, don't _do that."_

"Don't do what?" Homura blinked.

"Just _appear_ like that?"

Homura sighed. "...I didn't."

"Wait, what?"

"I walked over. You looked like you were in thought and I didn't want to interrupt you."

"I...O-oh." Madoka pressed her palm into her forehead. "I...let's just get a drink, aye?"

"I would like that, yes." 

[=]

Madoka had an Old Fashioned with a swirling orange rind and the faint scent of rum. She sipped and immediately winced. The drink was too bitter; not enough sugar and syrup and the ice cube was clearly too small. She sighed and drank it anyway. The poor bartender didn't need her shit, too.

Homura had a dirty martini in her hand. The two olives stuck to the edge as she gave the glass a light sway and a sip. Her drink seemed to be far better handled...that, or Homura didn't have the same tastes that Madoka did. One of the two.

Madoka opened her mouth, then her eyes flicked down. Then she looked back up. "So, you left Mitakihara?"

"Yes," Homura said without hesitation. "I left the city and never looked back." She sipped her drink. "I just...I couldn't stay."

"Mmhm." Madoka stared ahead. She gave her drink another sip. She looked over to her left. "So, uh, what about-"

"I have had a few girlfriends, but nothing long-term." Homura smiled. "I don't think I can do that. At least, not healthily. I tried another long-term relationship but it just..."

"Fell apart?" Madoka answered.

"Well, we realized we didn't click. We're still friends." Homura turned on the stool. "What about you? Did you-"

"I think I had the same realization that you did." Madoka scratched the back of her head. "I just kept on...thinking about you."

"Ah." Homura sighed. "You..."

"I tried moving on but I just...well, fuck it. We're adults." Madoka chugged the rest of her cocktail right down. "I broke up with you because you were obsessive. You were controlling, you were a living nightmare to be around."

"I was toxic."

"And you didn't...wait, what?" Madoka blinked.

"I was immensely toxic. It was bad for me. And it was worse for you." Homura swirled her olives around. "I know. I have been working on that."

Madoka paused. She stared at the woman across from her, then leaned against the bar. "Do you wanna talk about...something else?"

"Such as movies, perhaps?"

Madoka stuck her tongue out. "Ugh, no. I've gotten enough of those from the Miki-Sakuras. Minako is into some _real dumb movies."_

"Oh, how is she?"

"They."

"Oh, apologies. How are they?" Homura pauses. "I didn't realize Minako was nonbinary."

"It's recent. But honestly after Kyou and Saya started using they/them, they got real, real happy. So I think it's working. They don't use neopronouns, though."

"Akane?"

"Doctorate. She makes a pretty penny for her family back in Mitakihara." Madoka paused. "Actually, come to think of it, haven't you kept in contact with Mitakihara at all? I mean I've been out for a couple of years, but...it's been a while for you."

"A decade, yes."

"Mind catching me up a little on what you've been doing?"

[=]

The door to Madoka's home swung open, a very, _very_ drunk Madoka leaning up against a clearly very sober Homura. And the entire way there, Homura didn't stop talking.

She let out a laugh. "Oh, oh and then, and _then,_ the plane flipped over because this _idiot pilot_ forgot to actually anchor it down! It just _blew off_ into the wind! We were stuck up there for _hours_ before a helicopter got us down!"

Madoka cackled loudly, doubled over in laughter. "H-Hoh my _god,_ Homura what?!"

"It was probably the most exciting thing that happened on the Andes in _decades."_ She sighed as she let Madoka down on the couch. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"Y-yeah, I'm good." Madoka sighed. "Wow, Homu. You've seen a lotta shit."

"I have. Just, I should have left earlier." Homura smiled. "I shouldn't have stayed in Mitakihara as long as I have." She paused. "You know how long I was in that city?"

"Too long." Madoka wriggled on the couch. "Way, way too long. That's all I need to know." She pressed her fingers into her forehead. "Ugh, man I'm gonna feel like shit in the morning."

"Do you want-?"

"Yeah you can stick around." Madoka groaned. "I'm gonna be so fucking hungover when I wake up." She rolled onto her stomach. "Ugh."

A bucket appeared right by Madoka's couch.

The woman grunted. "You really didn't need to abuse your time travel powers."

"But I did." Homura said. "That trashcan wasn't even lined. You _will_ need it tomorrow morning."

"Ugh." Madoka pointed to the hallway. "My shower's over there. Please ignore the dildos."

"You got a dildo?"

"I got several." Madoka's hand flopped down. "Don't use 'em they still need washing."

Homura quirked up an eyebrow. "You're a bit more crass than I remember."

"It's been a decade, Homu. Shit changes." She flopped her arms over her face. "A lot changes, y'know."

They were both quiet for a little while as Madoka rolled over. Then, finally, she fell asleep. Homura did so soon after, on the other side of the couch.

[=]

It had been four days since she met Homura again, and Madoka needed that bucket ten minutes after she woke up.

It was a good thing she wasn't working that day, because she felt like shit, her mouth tasted like shit, everything was shit. Everything was fucking garbage and she was thankful she didn't ruin her pristine white couch or perfect tile floor. The sun was beating down through the roof and as she vomited into the trash can she saw Homura rush over.

She was already dressed. "I'm already making coffee."

"GHanrnggh," Madoka grunted. "Ughhhhafhgghh.."

"I concur," Homura said. "If you do sick on the floor, I'll clean it up for you."

"Thananksshh," Madoka muttered, before she promptly vomited right into the trashcan all over again. "Fhfuguckkmmeeh."

Homura winced. "Are you good to eat?"

"Nnoh." Madoka flopped around on the bed. "I'mmmnot good for anything."

"I'll make you breakfast anyway. Do you have eggs?"

"Yysesss."

The fridge opened behind her. Homura pulled out a couple of eggs. "Scrambled or-"

"Overeeeeeeeasy."

"Got it."

Madoka coughed. "I neeeeed waaaaaaaaater." She stumbled to her feet. She was still wearing her fucking shoes from last night, so she promptly kicked one of them off and awkwardly forced off the other. She stood up. "Hooomuuuu."

A cup was already in her hands. "Ooh," she muttered. "Thanksh."

"You're welcome," Homura said as she put a pair of bread slices in the toaster.

Madoka quietly sipped her glass. "You usin' the press?"

"Of course." Homura smiled. "I know how you like your coffee."

"Thank." Madoka waved her hand. "I'mma take a fuuuuuuuucking shower." 

[=]

Breakfast and a nap later, and Homura was sitting next to Madoka, who was leaning with her back against Homura's shoulder. Her hangover was still around, but it was less a head-splitting death ache and more just a mild migraine.

She pressed herself further back as Homura typed on her laptop.

"So...what do you do?"

"I'm an artist," Homura said. "It's nothing big, but my pieces help fund a lot of my trips."

"Oh?" Madoka turned back. "I thought that was just a side thing when you were living with me."

"It was." Homura pushed her glasses back up her face. "But...then I used it to vent."

"Ah." Madoka whistled. "So you're a traveling artist? How bohemian."

"I am a lesbian traveling artist who happens to have supernatural timestopping powers." Homura shrugged. "It's very, very bohemian."

Madoka chuckled. "Where was the self-awareness back when we were dating?"

Homura leaned right back. "Trapped somewhere between trauma and obsession, I suppose." She sighed. "I just..."

"You just what?" Madoka leaned back.

"I...hrm." Homura slumped. "I wish I was closer to this back then."

"Closer to...ah."

"Closer to how I am now. Healthier. Happier." Homura traced her finger across her chest. Even through the shirt she could feel the faint bump of a scar. "You know that my heart was weak, right? If I didn't become a magi, I would have died in my twenties."

"Homura..."

"I made a wish to protect you. And I tried for a decade. But then I caught the car and I did not know what to do with it. So I burned another decade chasing a car that had already stopped."

"I hope you don't regret us," Madoka muttered. "I'm not who I was. I'm not as happy as I was. I'm harder than I used to be."

"You should say 'more experienced'."

They freeze when they notice that they're leaning close to each other. The sun beamed down on them from up high amid a perfect midday Okinawan sky. Their faces were inches apart.

Madoka smiled. "So..."

"I wouldn't mind sex, no."

Homura said it so bluntly that Madoka could almost feel her soul leave her body. All that drama and it was diffused like _that._

"Well, is that a no?" Homura asked.

Madoka answered by kissing her on the lips. She pressed Homura's back into the couch and immediately kissed the other woman's breasts. Her hands traveled down her waist, down the belt as she kissed Homura's chest greedily.

"I missed this," she whispered. "I missed this and god I missed you."

Homura brought her hands down. Her breath caught in her throat as she stammered out. "S-same. I missed you too."

Madoka _immediately_ yanked down Homura's shorts, taking the belt and panties down with it before she brought her fingers up. Homura's breath hitched, her hand wrapped around Madoka's back as she let out a shuddering breath.

"Madokaaaaa..." she whispered.

"Shushush." Madoka leaned in. "I top."

"Yes. Yes you do." They started at a rhythm, Homura bucking to Madoka's fingers as she kept herself close.

But midway through a thrust, she caught Homura looking away. Another, and Madoka realized that it wasn't because Homura was arching her back in pleasure. She was distracted, trying to look away from her.

Madoka stopped. "Hey, hey, is something wrong?"

"It's just..." Homura took another breath. Her legs were shuddering. "I-I never thought I'd be back here. I just..." She shook her head. "Madoka, I just...I thought you hated me."

"Homura-"

"No, let me finish." Homura reached up. "I thought you hated me, and _I deserved it._ I deserved it for everything I put you through. I just, I was an awful person. I'm...I obsessed over you constantly I just-"

"You had an idealized me, right?" Madoka leaned over.

"I...I believed in a you that didn't exist." Homura shook her head. "I was so focused on the fake you that I didn't notice the person I was hurting. The woman that just...the woman I forced away by trying to keep her close."

"Well, what do you think of the woman in front of you?" Madoka whispered as she unbuttoned her top and pulled it over her head.

"I think..." Homura swallowed. "I think she's different from the Madoka I met all those years ago. The Madoka that I tried to save, the Madoka that I eventually did save." Homura brought her hands to Madoka's chest, to the bra strap in the middle.

She unhooked it and pressed her hands into Madoka's chest. "I think she's beautiful."

"This is the real me." Madoka said back. "Not an idealized me. Not a fake. Not a fictional me. I am _Madoka Kaname._ I drink a bit too often. I swear a lot more than I used to. I overwork myself, and I tend to believe in people that maybe don't deserve it." She took her hand out from Homura's legs and traced it up her stomach, right under Homura's shirt.

She could feel the scar underneath Homura's sports bra.

"And I want to fuck you, Homura Akemi."

Homura's breath hitched in her throat before she pulled herself up. "Give me a-" A split second, and Homura's shirt, bra and skirt went flying across the room, with Homura apparently never changing her position.

Madoka laughed. "Some things don't change."

"Some things don't." Homura breathed out. "And I think I really, really like this real Madoka."

[=]

At some point, she had fallen asleep on the couch. Her arms were wrapped around a naked Homura's waist, eyes shut, ear on top of her ex's chest.

Except, well, she wasn't asleep. Madoka took a breath.

"Something wrong?" Homura asked.

"I...no." Madoka sighed. "That was...that was nice." She gave Homura's chest scar a kiss. "That was real nice. I oughta get you to meet my girlfriends."

Homura smiled right back. "I think that would be lovely." She stroked Madoka's hair.

"So...what does this make us?" Madoka muttered. "I mean, I didn't think we'd fuck like _immediately_ after meeting again-"

"Friends with benefits?"

"That sounds right." Madoka rolled her head on Homura's chest. "...But you are sweet. You're very sweet."

Homura stroked the other woman's back. It was as though Madoka had barely aged in the past ten years. "Did you regret it?" Homura held Madoka's head close to her chest.

Madoka didn't say anything back. She nuzzled her face into Homura's chest as she wrapped her arms around the other woman's waist.

"We can answer that in the morning, Homu."

And they fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears.
> 
> When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. At the end of my childhood, I put these ways behind me. For now, we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known
> 
> And now these two remain
> 
> \-----
> 
> Yeah I hope you enjoyed this standalone side-story.

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in the same setting as "Sayakaquest", which I wrote like almost four years ago on Sufficient Velocity. It's a side story that I thought "Hey you know what, I like it enough to post it on its own."
> 
> You can also check out Easy To Find: Sayakaquest 2, which I am currently running ALSO on Sufficient Velocity.
> 
> https://forums.sufficientvelocity.com/threads/easy-to-find-sayakaquest-2.54887
> 
> Though I might eventually post SQ2 on Ao3 if people are up for it. Who knows?


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